


baby name book

by yekhuya (demkhuya)



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, harry and james are subtly mentioned, post sh2 pre sh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25522294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demkhuya/pseuds/yekhuya
Summary: heather and laura look through a baby name book they find in harry’s study.
Relationships: Harry Mason/James Sunderland, Heather Mason and Laura
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	baby name book

**Author's Note:**

> \- wanted to write something mindless here, so i didn’t try too hard doing this.  
> \- as always i hc everyone as viet/viet-american ^^

**– HER FATHER’S STUDY IS HOME TO MANY BOOKS.** When they find the baby names book, it is tucked in a corner at the bottom of one of his bookshelves, clearly where all the miscellaneous works were relegated to. It is blue and worn and dusty. The corners are rounded and soft, and the pages have faded to a rich and dark yellow. Though the book is small, it is comically thick, and the girls find it unwieldy to leaf through. Laura opened it towards the middle. As soon as she did, Heather blew dust out of the pages, right up into Laura’s face, leading the other girl to shout and frown at her as she laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

“You’d better not.” Laura’s face is all puckered up, but Heather knows that she is perfectly harmless. She grins reassuringly and, though Laura says nothing, she knows that she is forgiven. 

“Let’s do your name first,” Laura says, scanning the rows of small text like the diligent student that she is. 

Heather has only seen glimpses of her at school. They didn’t share the same classes, but nevertheless, she has seen Laura’s neat and tidy desk, and her near-perfect scores she buries behind school newsletters in her orange folder. It was this, as well as the guarded distance she kept with her classmates, that made her seem meek and docile. The girls who attempted to lure her in as a new victim of their torment could attest to this. They tried to corner her, and Laura had slapped one of them viciously enough to draw out tears. 

It was through such an experience that Heather had met Laura in the office. Heather had also been sent there for having punched a boy when he had insulted her, and was waiting at the desk for her father to pick her up. Laura received the same treatment, and both girls sat beside one another, waiting for their fathers. 

It was Heather who had asked Laura her name first. After exchanging the experiences that had led them to being picked up early and suspended for three days, they returned to their original silence. James had arrived before Harry, and, after another redundant discussion with the counselor, led Laura away. The girl, with her pretty backpack and perfectly-ironed shirt and pants, turned around one last time and said: “Bye, Heather.” 

She remembered that James had turned around too. Perhaps he was surprised that Laura herself had addressed another person of her own volition. He smiled briefly in her direction before finally leaving. It was a polite half-smile that looked strange on his face, as though he were unused to smiling in such a thoughtless manner. 

They had become closer since then. They met each other in the library during lunch, and walked out to the carpool at the end of the day. It was Heather that often spoke more between the two of them. She liked to tease Laura for her stern expressions that betrayed a sweet and lovable innocence beneath. Though they were the same age, Laura felt like a younger sister to her. There was so much she didn’t know. For one, Laura still believed that people, on the whole, were very good; she believed in god and heaven and kindness. These were things that Heather had learned, from her father, were little more than hopeful wishes. 

“Heather, I found your name.” 

Laura points to a line of barely-legible text. She narrows her eyes and reads it aloud: 

> **_Heather._ ** _ Derived from Middle English  _ hather _ , for the variety of small shrubs with pink or white flowers, which commonly grow in rocky areas. _

“That’s lame. Flowers? How many names are there for flowers?” Heather groaned, fairly unimpressed. She noted that the page was dog-eared, and wondered if her father had really selected such a name with her in mind. For a while, she was convinced that ‘Heather’ was a random backup name that he had devised on the fly. As a child, she was confused but generally excited to receive a new name; now, however, she found it a real drag. 

“Maybe you should ask your dad to change your name, then.”

“He actually did. Didn’t I tell you? My name was Cheryl before.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name.” Laura’s eyes flickered at the sound of it, as though she were completely enchanted. “Yeah, I remember now. Why did you change it?”

“It’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time.” Heather sighed. “What a downgrade.”

Laura flipped about fifty pages back, and found the name ‘Cheryl’ underlined in pencil. She thought of Harry, young and inexperienced, lingering over this page, discussing the name with Heather’s mother. 

She wondered if Harry had ever been married. It wasn't difficult to imagine him in love with someone, seeing how much love he raised Heather with. She thought of the nights she spent over at Heather’s house, where she would walk in on James and Harry at the table, carrying on a quiet conversation under a dim light. Harry always smiled at her, and got up to fetch her a bottle of water, as though she were his daughter all the same. She sometimes felt jealous of Heather, but never in a cruel way. Heather was funny and kind, gentle and strong; she deserved what goodness life brought to her. But Laura could not help but wonder how she would have been if she had been raised by someone like Harry—someone who was certain, someone who possessed an intense and selfless warmth.

Mary was like that.

> **_Cheryl._ ** _ Derived from the French  _ cherie _ , meaning darling, or beloved.  _

Heather peered over Laura’s shoulder as she read. She wore a great, nostalgic smile as she listened to Laura’s voice bring the words to life. She looked in Laura’s direction in an attempt to read the expression she wore. 

“I told you that ‘Heather’ was a serious downgrade.”

Laura shook her head. “Only special plants grow around rocks. I think that's why Harry picked that name for you too.” 

“You're making it sound way better than it is.”

“I don't think so.” 

Laura closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Heather sat up and frowned.

“You don't wanna look up your name?”

“I don’t think my name really means anything.” 

“Then why’d James name you Laura?”

“He didn’t give that name to me. I think the church did.” She tilted her head to the side as she thought it over. “Cheryl’s a nice name, though. Your dad must love you a lot.”

“He does!” Heather said, beaming. “I know James loves you a lot too, Laura.”

“I know he does.” 

Laura seemed soft as she said this, so much younger than she was. Heather wanted so much to tease her— _ you look a lot like James sometimes, Laura, especially when you're sad. _ Like a little doll, locked away behind a glass case, alone and beautiful. Laura and James wore melancholy like an old rain jacket, Heather thought. And sometimes, her father did too. She would see Harry—usually late at night or early in the morning—looking out their living room window at something she couldn't see. Was he unhappy? she would wonder. Who was he thinking about then? He never spoke of these things to her, but she imagined him sharing such thoughts with James—she never knew what they talked about, but she couldn't imagine their conversations being about anything else. It was for this reason that Heather treated James with a degree of cold indifference. If he didn't treat her father’s heart with care, then she would punish him, because her father would be too kind to do it himself. 

“We don’t have to look up your name if you don’t wanna.” Heather said, patting Laura’s back. “How about we do something else? Let’s get some ice cream.” 

“Don’t you ever have real food?” Laura scoffed, one corner of her lips turning up as she did. Heather grinned, seeing Laura return to her usual, harsh self. 

“You mean like Cup Ramen? Cơm cháy? Shrimp chips?”

“Ew.” The other girl grimaced. “How do you and Harry live, Heather? James and I will have to give you two cooking lessons, or else you’ll die of malnutrition.”

“We can cook! We can use the microwave. Isn't that cooking?”

Laura laughed. 

They bickered like this as they left Harry’s study, filling the little house with the sound of their laughter. They were eleven years old then, and their world was small and warm. A Saturday morning in spring, the air filled with flowers, the sunlight filtering through their windows and illuminating the day. They were very happy.

  
  



End file.
